First Pony View
A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fan fic
By Suomibrony
Chapter 5
Life On The Edge
I crossed the border of Slumbertania and into Awakeyland. A throbbing inside my head welcomed me to the familiar nation. Doing my best to ignore the unpleasant sensation, I noticed I wasn't on a soft mattress and underneath a comfy blanket. Nor did my head rest on a pillow. I was laying on a soft surface, but it wasn't smooth like a pillow or a mattress. When scents of various flora and damp air began to register in my nostrils, perplexed, I ordered my eyelids to retract. Peering through drowsy slits, my eyes were greeted by a countryside landscape on an overcast day. I found myself resting on a patch of moss on an elevated rocky surface that sloped down to a river.
My subcranial pounding made me question what kind of a party I had been attending and what decadent prankster had alcoholized my beverage. I was a staunch teetotaler, and to become intoxicated, not to mention so severely that I'd pass out in the middle of nowhere, was simply disgraceful and unacceptable! Whoever was responsible for my unfavorable predicament would be the recipient of a proper and acrid chewing out! However, my inebriation must've been extreme since I had no recollection of ever being at a party recently. In that case, good riddance! I didn't want to remember it anyway! Worst. Party. Ever!
To further indignify my situation, a brief gust informed me I was buck naked. Although . . . it didn't feel quite naked, more like I was wearing an encompassing, skintight, warming felt of some kind. Unusually enveloping, in fact, as it seemed to literally cover me from head to toe. As I began to pay more attention to other things than my surmised hangover, I discovered something was off about my arms and legs as well as my posture. Somehow, my legs were parallel with my torso, yet it didn't hurt me one bit, and . . . then my hands . . . Why couldn't I feel my fingers?
In extreme confusion, I glanced at my resting arms and saw two hair-coated somethings in their place; a startled cry launched from my mouth, and I became doubly shocked. My scream had been several octaves above what I'd normally be capable of producing. I became further confused when I placed the hard, fingerless extremity on my throat, displacing a string there.
“Wha-? My voice . . . I . . .” I stammered in disbelief. Then, like a rapid train passing by a stationary observer, the events of my lucid dream flashed through my mind. I drew my limb up to my face and stared at it in agape incredulity. Suspecting the worst, I apprehensively turned my head around to get a look at myself.
“Bu-but, h-how!?” I sputtered in horror, recoiling at the sight of a begrimed ice-white coat and bronze-colored, pink-striped tail. “Th-this shouldn't be possible!”
Motivated by a spontaneous impulse, I shot into an upright stance before I was reminded of the impossibility of maintaining a bipedal posture. I came back down onto all fours in a second, the minor impact sending a small jolt from the ends of the limbs up to the shoulders, and for a split second, I was extremely cognizant of the drastic changes in my physique.
I began to rotate erratically, eyeing my limbs and body in horrified disbelief while barely managing to speak between my frenetic breaths. “No . . . this . . . it can't be . . . I'm a—” I halted when my tail tucked itself between my legs, squeaking at the sight and feel of the involuntary reaction.
Moisture began to seep into my eyes as panic began to strip away my control. It wrapped itself tightly around my heart, commanding my body to quake violently. In a matter of seconds, my mind succumbed to the fright as well. I could feel a horrified scream building up inside me . . . I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let it win, but if this was real . . . There wouldn't be a failsafe! There would be no way out! I'd be imprisoned! Sealed! Confined! Stuck! No escape at all . . . trapped . . . in a pony . . . a filly . . . female . . .
Oh no . . . I . . . Please no . . . I . . . Wait . . . I think . . .
I got it . . . Yes . . . I got it. I got it! I got it I got it I got it!
“It's a dream!” I exclaimed, a fragile smile creasing my lips, “I'm still inside the lucid dream! It-it makes pe-perfect s-sense! The- it- I . . .” My smile and tone withered rapidly under the powerful assault of emotions, and for a few futile but quiet seconds, I resisted before they finally prevailed over me. Cringing forth a miserable squeak, I dropped my head and granted the fluid in my eyes the liberty to run down my cheeks.
I drew a heavy breath and wiped the tears into my foreleg. “Only a dream . . .” I sighed shakily in relief, gazing at my appendage as I timorously placed it back to the ground.
Some events in my past had scared me, but never had I been this terrified. Few things could compare—the pure fear that takes hold and never wants to let go, it was so close to . . . I couldn't ideate how I'd . . . If this wasn't . . . If I were . . . permanently . . . No, I didn't even want to consider it. I didn't want to stress myself any further. If I hadn't remembered to tell myself I was sojourning in a vivid fantasy produced by my own subconscious . . . I didn't understand how I hadn't thought of it immediately. Maybe the very convincing waking-up experience was the reason. Would I have awoken for real if I had been overwhelmed by fear and thus changed the dream to a nightmare? It didn't make a difference; I was past the terror now.
Or so I thought.
As my cool returned to me, so did my awareness of the persistent headache. My recently acquired peace strained like a flimsy garment as panic's dark dominion threatened to expand into me again.
“It's . . . it's . . .” I stuttered in consternation. “It's . . . it's just a minor discomfort!” I conjured a plausible explanation, trading my terrified grimace for an uneasy but wide grin. “It's not pain, not pain at all! Only discomfort! And this is still a dream!” I was so flustered I couldn't help but laugh. Nervously. Was that how fear worked on me now? How funny! Not. Then why did it make me laugh? Fear and joy crashing into each other and short-circuiting my brain? The recent stress warping my emotions? Yes! Right! The headache! I had to refute it!
“It's the dream's doing! It must be! It's playing a prank on me! But I know this isn't real! Nope! Nuh-uh! Not reality! Negativo! Njet! It's not reality! Only a dream! It's the only possible explanation! Pain makes the dream stop! Discomfort doesn't!”
I coughed suddenly; my saliva had heard enough of my hysterical rambling and slipped down into my windpipe. It was good saliva, for it brought immediate sanity back to my head.
“Oh . . . kay . . . I got . . . the point,” I managed to say between my coughing.
Once I had cleared the uninvited substance from my throat, I resumed gently sailing to tranquility island, noticing as I did so that I had fallen on my haunches in my panic-stricken state. From personal experience, I knew excessive stress would disrupt my rationality, effectively turning me crazy. Luckily, experience also told me I would recover from them. Sometimes it took a few minutes, other times a few hours, but eventually I'd conquer my madness. All I had to do was relax, during which I'd evaluate my conduct from a near impartial standpoint if possible. I didn't trust myself too highly on that, but striving for it was at least a noble goal.
I had suffered two highly stressful incidents. It's not far-fetched to postulate that the incidents, combined with my momentary relief and joy of overcoming the first anxiety attack, sent my emotions and mind on the fritz. Thankfully, with that bout of cerebral incoherency a thing of the past, all was well again.
The headache was becoming tolerable, though I yearned for a pill of ibuprofen to dull its edge completely. What a cruel and crazy dream I had, burdening me with an all-too-authentic headache, as if it wanted me to believe this was real and not a wry fantasy. I wasn't so easily tricked, however. My impossible transformation, the sighting of the pegasus, the interaction with the man—they were indisputable evidence. I was at peace. In a dream. Cease thinking. Take a break.
I sat silent with my eyes closed, head inclined and mind void of troubling thoughts. With every drift of air passing over and out from me, I was reacquainted with my form. I clapped my forehooves lightly on the ground, tossed my tail, turned my ears, waited for a gust to gently pass through my hairs, and finally . . . “This is my voice,” I stated calmly in my unmistakably female voice. It was a pleasant voice when spoken with a collected and relaxed attitude.
“And my dream isn't over yet,” I continued as I drew my eyes open and examined the circle of sunken rock I had been relocated to.
I studied the vertical crescent of rocky slopes behind and next to me with scrunched brows: eighty-degree angle, three to four meters tall, laced with copious amounts of moss and lichen, but also covered with indents and protrusions.
“I could climb my way out of here,” I said optimistically, then with emerging frustration glanced at the soiled undersides of my forehooves. “If it weren't for these.”
Sighing away my light sourness, I got up on my hooves with little effort and began to stroll leisurely towards the river.
‘Well, I suppose I can just go down this little incline to the river emb—’
“Holy horse apples!”
In a blink of an eye, I had frantically backpedaled by a few body lengths and stumbled clumsily—and without injury—onto my haunches. The innocuous incline was deceiving until I stood at its edge and the steep slope to a ten-meter drop was revealed to my eyes.
I swallowed, tasting a trace of pineapples, mixed with enzymes and other unappetizing flavors, at the back of my tongue. Gathering my spinning mind, I observed that my dream liked to be consistent in regards to what I had eaten previously.
“. . . horse apples?” I wondered bedazzled, my mind performing a few more revolutions before halting.
Once my queasiness had faded entirely, I analyzed my situation. ‘So . . . I can't climb out from here, and I don't dare to jump down . . .’ My brows lowered as I absorbed that.
“So, what now?” I pondered irately. “Simply wait here until I'm miraculously lifted out?” The sarcastic remark instigated me to cast an inquisitive look at the grassy lips above me. ‘Hmm . . . Maybe somepony's nearby!?’ I hoped, followed by a delayed flinch. “Someone, someone, someone,” I muttered in irritation as I tapped a hoof at my forehead.
“Aaanywaaay,” I said as I resigned from my annoyance, ‘the likelihood of some dream character being here is slim; I should nevertheless try to call for help.’
I shouted for assistance for a complete minute, trying to draw the attention of anypony—or any human—in the vicinity. I didn't drop into despair when I realized there was no reply to my shouts. If anything, I became annoyed when my calls went unanswered.
“Oh joy,” I grouched and sat down, my complaint breaking out from the confines of my mind. “It appears I've been deposited into this solitary confinement to await my awakening from this imaginary world!”
With my burst over, I began to glare at the scenery beyond the river. The rural landscape was picturesque at least, and it would've been soothing . . . if it had been a sunny summer day! Accursed autumn cloud cover! I inhaled deeply and evacuated the majority of my irritation with the outbound breath.
“Maybe if I were to. . . ?” I murmured, focusing a fearful yet contemplative look towards the concealed riverside precipice. I had assumed it was narrower and farther out from the cliff, but it was rather wide and close to the cliff. The gradient of the slope had fooled me into perceiving that the ground was a gentle slope into the river instead of the steep cliff that it was.
“Nah,” I dismissed the idea after a moment, slashing my hoof through the air. “I'm not ready to wake up yet.” In the dreams where I plunged into water, I never "survived" it. Those incidents were how I met my end in a recurring nightmare, where I was in an out-of-control car as it soared off a pier at high speed; I always woke up the instant the car struck the water. I held no doubt the same would apply to me now, sans the car of course. I was too afraid of water to take that route. However, the point stood clear: if I were to leap down, I'd bring an immediate closure to my most extraordinary dream upon piercing the river surface.
Left with nothing else to do, I gauged the appearance of the illusory world in front of me. A placid wide brown river separated my elevated rocky location from a vast yellow field of plants. I didn't know enough about agriculture to recognize what plants were growing there. It would've been nice if a combine harvester was on the field to liven the view. The wide band of yellow was flanked by a green meadow on one side and a plowed field on the other. All three met a horizon-spanning pine forest in the distance. The sky itself was nothing but a gray and featureless canvas. A typical autumn afternoon, I estimated. It wasn't a warm day, either, but my coat did a remarkable job at denying my body warmth to the cold air. A number of birds chirped merrily somewhere nearby. Good for them. I wasn't sharing their enthusiasm.
With my boredom increasing every passing minute, I began to trudge around on the four by six meter semicircular zone. Jogging my legs and mind at the same time, I endeavored to remember what I had done before "waking up." My immediate recollection was of myself consuming the canned food I had taken for myself after its owner forgot to retrieve it. Following my delicious pineapple meal, everything became a disjointed blur. Riding the elevator down, being extremely euphoric, and conversing with another individual were my only memories from the foggy episode. To whom—or what—I had spoken to was lost into the shroud. The entire post-meal episode might've been a lapse into a "normal" dream, though my fading headache/hangover made me consider that the canned food was another prank set up by the dream overlord. Dreams are intrinsically nonsensical, after all.
I appreciated being fully aware again, though I was disheartened that my trapped status was wasting my unique and limited dream-time in this uninteresting location. Desiring to ward off such a sad thought, I began to scrutinize my own locomotion. Since the previous attempt at figuring out my four-legged walk had only bewildered me, I decided to investigate the "quattro coreografia" with firmer determination this time. ‘Heh, look at me, creating pseudo-Italian terms for four-legged locomotion.’
I mentally denoted each leg with an abbreviation: FR, FL, HR, and HL. My plan was to slow down my gait to a near stand-still, taking one step at a time while speaking the moniker I had given to my legs as I raised them. It seemed to be so simple, yet when I lifted my front-right leg, or FR, my immediate reaction was stupefying indecision. I gently lowered my leg, my mind vacant for a spell.
“Oh, come on!” I complained as my faculties came back online. “How hard can it be to comprehend walking?” I pursed my lips as I thought deeply on how to solve this astonishingly complicated issue. Maybe I was being too slow? Over-analyzing each step? I took a moment to relax a little.
“Time to retry,” I declared flatly and set my eyes on my hind-legs. In order to teach my brain a lesson, I resumed my walking with a mind void of thoughts. I watched the quadrupedal performance under the role of a perceptive camcorder rather than a contemplative researcher.
After a solid minute of walking, I stopped, my eyes locked on my legs as I lifted them in sync. “I started with . . . Ef-El. Then came Aitch-Ar, and then . . . Ef-Ar and then Aitch-El . . . Ah-ha! Eureka!” I exclaimed in glee. With a pleased smile on my lips, I observed my legs do their part as I resumed my gait.
“Ef-El, Aitch-Ar, Ef-Ar, Aitch-El, Ef-El, Aitch-Ar, Ef-Ar, Aitch-El, Ef-El, Aitch-Ar, Ef-Ar, Aitch-El~” I chanted in a four-beat tempo, tracing an oval on the rock. Once I got the pattern down, my sporadic movement escalated to a continuous gait, my seamless chanting decreasing until it had become voiceless.
I gradually raised my pace until my unhurried gait couldn't keep up and launched into a new, two-beat rhythm. Too curious to hold my thoughts at bay, I fumbled on my legs almost immediately and came to a halt on an astride stance. I gazed blankly ahead, an embarrassed smile arriving after a delay.
“Oops,” I chuckled abashedly, returning to a normal stance. ‘Glad nopony was around to see my blunder.’ I glanced around to affirm I was right. Collecting my composure and normalizing my expression, I reinitiated my activity with a clear mind and keen eyes.
After a few laps, I had calculated the rhythm: when HR lifted, so did FL. When those were returning to the ground, it was HL and FR's turn to reproduce the previous pair's motions. With my legs now moving as synchronized diagonal pairs, I bounced along merrily in the joy of having learned a new lesson in the art of quadruped locomotion. Not only did I have a pleased smile on my face, but my tail seemed to signal my excitement as well, swinging lively like a banner caught in a breeze. I wasn't sure why exactly, but I was feeling extraordinarily good. A desire to rear up to a jubilant cheer was begging earnestly for permission to express itself. I could imagine a filly commencing with the frivolous display shamelessly, but not me; I had strict gender-specific standards to adhere to.
A craving to progress to a gallop emerged. Sadly, my current location was pitifully inadequate for anything more than a short sprint. Feeling lamentably confined again, I approached a random section of the near-vertical slope, where I then lunged upright and landed my forehooves on the steep rock. Gazing at the tantalizing grassy lips above, I opened my mouth to beseech the ruler of my dream.
“Hey, uh, me,” I awkwardly addressed my subconscious. “Can you, I mean, me . . . uh, you . . . ? Never mind.” I discarded my confusion and got to the point. “Can I humbly ask to be granted a human form for five minutes please?” I voiced my wish with politeness.
No response.
“How about half of that?” I bargained.
Nothing.
“No? One minute then?” I waited for a while, gazing around impatiently. “You expect me to climb out of here in thirty seconds?” I half-hinted, scowling. “Male or female, I don't care, just give me a chance to ascend from this miserable location!” When nothing occurred, I cleared my throat and gathered a bucketful of courage.
Inclining my head down, I brought forth a pout and rolled my eyes skywards. “Pweease?” I beseeched innocently, hopefully allocating an adorable shimmer into my eyes. Somewhere inside my head, my masculinity was protesting.
No response. Again. With my request left unfulfilled despite my very atypical performance, I disengaged from my pose with a long, exasperated groan, then shot a stern glare at the clouds above me.
“You insensitive jerk!” I snapped shrilly, declaring the fruitless one-way conversation to be over.
Underneath my displeased exterior, I brimmed with bemusement. My attempt at persuasion with "myself" was unorthodox, however, I couldn't possibly associate myself with the sadistic being who operated this world, denying me my freedom and frustrating me at every opportunity.
That brought my attention to my insult: "Insensitive jerk" didn't seem like something I'd normally say when I'm scornful at somepony. I associated that utterance more with a . . . No, my female structure was deceiving me. Or maybe I had become so alienated from myself that the roleplay had inadvertently lasted longer than I had intended . . . although since this was a dream, I wouldn't have to worry about inconsistencies in my conduct.
No matter how good or bad dreams are, they're finite. Nightmares are conjured by a sleeping mind, too, and those are undeniably horrible. This extraordinary lucid dream was simply riddled with a number of unpleasant moments. Most of those negative moments, however, were made much worse by my stressing over every minutia. The interaction I had with my imaginary neighbor resulted in a humiliating disaster due to my losing my head and blowing up on him. In hindsight, there were many things I did wrong.
I should've been straightforward and asked without leaving any room for misinterpretation. I should've ignored the paranoid notion of a psychosis. I should've said that I had no time to chat and prevented the debacle from ever taking place. I should've been rational and not viewed the man as a malicious jester. The entire ordeal happened because I had made one mistake after another until I received the full brunt of the indignifying repercussions.
Why couldn't I just be carefree and positive? I had been when I was trotting about recently, but I had suppressed the urge to release my joy. Could it be that all the negative emotions made my happiness more potent in turn? I had limited it, though, put dampers on it. Was I afraid of something? Of course I was.
I looked over at my two-toned tail and arbitrarily wiggled it once. “Temporarily, I'm a pony . . .” I muttered, and my eyes rolled to the side in thought. Since I was an avid fan of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, I presumed my form was a semi-conscious wish that my sleeping mind had granted. Now, I was stuck to expend that wish on this lousy cliffside.
Birds warbled beyond eyesight and the sky had become slightly darker since I last bothered to pay attention to it. My mood withered further as the incredibly boring view dug itself into my conscience, myself tapping my forehoof idly as minutes passed and my mind drew blanks on what to do. Eventually, I stopped the leg-tapping and looked down at my limb, the grace of its shape more evident in my eyes now than before. My bored brows were afflicted when I contemplated a serious question: “Why a female pony?”
‘Am I so practical-minded,’ I postulated as I shifted my sights from my hoof to my flank, ‘that I consider housing my reproductive organs inside me to be such an advantage over the obvious alternative that I've manifested myself as a mare?’ Half-closing my eyes, I glanced sidelong at nothing specific. “Or as a filly, whichever way it is,” I said, trying to sound indifferent in spite of the uneasy topic and attempting to reconcile myself with my new Andrea Libmanesque voice.
“Regardless of the terminology,” I returned to the present issue, inspecting my pink-striped bronze tail and white body, “why these colors, then? They're . . . feminine.” It took effort to speak that word, even if I only managed a whimper. I drifted my gaze over the irregular ground before my forelegs.
“I'm thankful I don't have a princess pink coat, but . . . these colors . . . don't belong on a stallion . . .” I paused as I collected an unnerving thought and peeked at my tail. “But is . . . is this how I would envision myself if I . . . were a female pony?” I bowed my head and hushed my voice even further. Truth be told, I wasn't sure what colors I would've picked, but this selection didn't fit with me. Maybe this was the representation of my inner gi— No, the colors were purely random.
An inner warmth radiated up to my skin and pushed out wet beads. I felt slightly queasy, too. I guess it was either due to embarrassment or humiliation. Or both.
This unnerving self-inspection was as disconcerting as it was fascinating, and it made me wish I had studied psychology with dedication. Nevertheless, I paused shortly to retrieve some composure before I continued my introspection.
‘Every female has an underlying masculine side, just as every male has his feminine counterpart. The animus and anima, if I'm not mistaken,’ I thought sagely, recalling the little psychology I had researched. “So, this, uh, may then be my femininity personalized . . . Eh-heh, ponified, I mean,” I corrected my deduction, the lighthearted remark lacking the potency to reduce my nervousness.
“So, uh . . .” My mind halted—or rather my mouth halted—and I cast a cursory glance at my rocky containment walls for courage to press on. “Since I'm . . . um, a female for the time being . . . maybe, uh . . .” I had gradually slouched as I spoke and was now completely prone, and if possible, I would've continued into the stone as well. “Because this . . . is, uhm . . . a unique situation, I could . . . could try to . . . try to . . . do something . . . something, um . . .” I was practically enveloped in a film of sweat at this point.
“. . . something different.”
Well, finally,a new chapter! I apologize so profusely for the delay, that I am close to coughing up a high-grade electrical safety device. Hah-hah.
....
Anyway, comments are much appreciated.
Gregor Samsa much? Not that it bugs me or anything - insect I like this story very moth. I hope you caterpillar the story until it's end, it is crysalisizing into quite the antventure.
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Ah, the highly venerable Chatoyance has decreed me to be worthy of notice. With bated breath I await what action shall come upon me next, though regrettably I must admit I do have to circulate new oxygen into my meager body regularly lest I become extremely liable to hazardous mortality.
*ahem*
Actually, since the body's involuntary commands will eventually override the voluntary ones, ceasing respiration to the point of death is impossible. Loss of conscience is plausible, but thereafter normal respiration will resume.
Yes, anyhow . . . I haven't read Die Verwandlung, but I know the general premise of that famous piece of literature. I also know it's a bit of a cliche to have the character wake up as a pony, but that's not as cliche as Twilight Sparkle messing a spell and drawing in a teen guy from Earth. *eyeroll*
Hence this story is almost a direct opposite of the typical HiE stories.
At any rate, few fics compare to this one as far as I know. Midnight Shadow has a few with a related R63 theme, and I believe you too have explored the workings of ponyfied person's mind. Those are in a different league, however, due to them being set in the dystopian TCB universe where the character (usually) chooses to turn pony. They accept the physical and mental transformation that comes with it and thus are granted a chance to escape from the debased, wicked and dying Earth. In the case they don't willingly turn pony, they at least acknowledge they are permanently one and adjust to it eventually. There are variations of the ponyfication depending on the author and story, and not all of them are set in the TCB universe of course. In some TCB stories the change in personality is quite drastic and dramatic, while in others it's limited to basic instincts, such as reconfigured dietary habits and sexual desires. The change is derived from consuming a special potion most often containing elements and agents not only capable of morphing the person into pony, but to habilitate them to it as well. In rare instances, usually non-TCB stories set in Equestria, the character is very unfamiliar with and perhaps reject their pony form. Regardless of the extent of the change and what has caused it, its instant however. I don't think I've read many where the character morphs gradually.
In this story, however, the character has definitely not been dropped into Equestria, and the only instant change is the body, although evidently it's molding the mind to fit the frame. So in that regard, it's a gradual process. Or is it? The character had a bizarre breakdown in the bathroom and expresses speech habits pertaining to ponies, remember? What could those imply? What may be obvious could be the very opposite of it. Am I telling too much? Or am I perfectly ambiguous? I don't believe I'm that smart. Hey, what's a red herring? Does it taste good? False leads? Yeah, false leads!
Actually we don't know where we are or aren't yet. You say it's not in Equestria, but you haven't actually precluded it for certain yet.
Well, that's true. Either I had a slip of a tongue, or then nothing has made it explicit Equestria is where the story takes place. So far most signs have indicated it to be Earth. Or some similar world inhabited by bipedal sparse-haired apes. Or maybe I should have said "definitely not into the Equestria we know" instead? That might've been a lie. Or not.
The story will provide the answers when the time comes.
Very interesting so far. The slow, rocky slope of mental breakdowns are certainly present and very humorous to watch. You also pose a philosophical standpoint to it all which I happen to like. Oh, and the video game references don't hurt. Ah, Fallout... Regardless, this is deserving of both a five star rating, and my tracking of it. Keep up the excellent work!
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There was a Fallout reference?
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Five stars?
Why I am... well, that's . . . that's . . . fantastic!
What a way to start my day! I'm quite flattered! Thank you!
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In chapter three when the main character opens the home door.
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Start? Whooooa, we must be in some seriously different timezones. And I was only being honest. You have a very fascinating writing style. It gets a bit weird at times, but that flows well with the story and truly displays the mental breakdowns well. That is the objective behind having an unreliable narrator. Besides, you read my story, so I return the favor.
Little known fact: I don't live in the states, hence the timezone disrepancy. Right now it's midnight. Do the math if you wish to estimate my location.
But yeah, the character is under constant stress thanks to his physical shape. By all accounts he shouldn't even be a pony, because in his world view, transmogrification into a fictional creature is utterly impossible. Him being the witness and subject of a such impossibility quite upsets him. Then he discovers he's not a he, which really does not sync well with his ego. Later he first talks like a pony, then inadvertably claims he has always been a pony. Add into the mix his body being that of a female and his stress level figuratively punches a hole in the roof. His number one method to deal with it all is to sweep the issue under the carpet with his "It's a dream!" mantra. We can guess how that will end . . .
I love this story. This has some of my favorite things in a story, first person narration, human to pony transformation, and rule 63. This is my favorite story besides 'Story of the Blanks' but that's more of a game. I hope you continue because I love it when a human has a big reaction to becoming a pony. Also, I have a few questions, is the MC still in a dream? Also, will we see the human guy again?
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I'm very happy to know you sincerely appreciate this story I'm not sure how many stories on FIMfic fit the three criteria you'e presented, though My Little Human: The Strange Case Of Lyle Hartman may be to your taste too.
To answer your questions, well... I don't wish to spoil anything. The sixth chapter may shed some light on those questions however
"So, uh…Since I'm…um, a female for the time being…maybe, uh…Because this…is, uhm…a unique situation, I could…could try to…try to…do something…something, um…something different."
Oh really? And what, pray tell, did you have in mind? You seem to insinuate something…salacious is in store.
63615 As someone who does in fact enjoy reading Through the Eyes of Another Pony despite its flaws, I certainly can't fault you for your opinions. The protagonist is almost everything you described him as, and the author himself admits as much; and much like yours and many other initially self-insert characters, the character developed to the point where it was no longer self-insert and had become better adapted for use in the story.
In the defense of TTEoAP, it's better than anything written by Stephanie Myers, and in my opinion, better than Clive Cussler, who has a tendency to write characters that are dry, devoid of personality, talk way too much and unnaturally, or are equipped with a silver tongue that manages to bridge the uncanny valley and somehow cross both cultural and language barriers when insulting antagonists who speak slightly broken English as a secondary language. At least in TTEoAP his prized cell phone was destroyed relatively early; Cussler tends to insert pristine examples from his prized antique car collection that get used and abused, but end up getting a full restoration at the end of the book.
I do applaud your admirable effort to give it an honest shot, though. Many fans of the series find the early chapters to be funny, but poorly written; it's the latter fact combined with the seemingly disingenuous premise overall that drive most people away without getting very far. and rightfully so since the author much later admitted to having written them while drunk. The feedback and support people were giving him helped him to sober up, and he intends to go back and re-write them once he's finished with this first story arc. It is interesting that you stopped at chapter 10 though, as chapter 11 is the one that even the fans agree was less-than-great compared to the rest of the later chapters. It should also be noted that the name of the story is a clue to the spoilers revealed in the most recent chapters; the protagonist's borderline game-breaking magic abilities (as fast as he can run when transmuted into a ball of flame, he still can't keep up with RD's flying when she's not even putting any real effort into her speed), are not unique in the story universe. He also ends up just flat-out getting his ass handed to him on multiple occasions, because sometimes he just really is an idiot. He also doesn't qualify for the "prophesied hero" trope. All that said, you raised perfectly valid points in your argument, and it does take a bit more willful suspension of disbelief to enjoy it; but depending on your sense of humor, there are many parts that get people laughing out loud, sometimes rolling on the floor, or in my case, nearly suffocating because I couldn't stop long enough to inhale. As someone very familiar with tropes in stories, I find it to be delightfully unpredictable (with the exception of the predictable application of certain prerequisite character tropes), even if I'm one of the few who manage to pick up on certain subtle details to accurately predict certain plot points, because when they do come about, they come about spectacularly in an entirely unexpected fashion, and are sometimes soon overshadowed by more pressing unexpected developments that result. Overall, I find it to be an interesting exercise in intentionally using toxic tropes unironically, and while certainly not of the same calibre as many of the better-known good fanfics, it is a far better story than it has any right to be, in its own right.
But I digress.
I'm quite enjoying First Pony View as the unique psychological adventure that it is, and am very eager to read more. However, regarding the man in the hallway, his seemingly instantaneous switch from being confused and slightly dejected to absolutely infuriated while also having the questionably quickly well-thought-out ploy to feign a heart-attack, does all seem a bit out of place. Since we do only have the "unreliable narrator" and can't see inside his mind, I can't really even imagine what possible set of personal circumstances would have led him to act the way he did. Given his kind and curious demeanor when he first approached the protagonist, It seems like it would have been a more natural reaction to instead just burst out and engage in a fury-fueled shouting match until he says something that unintentionally deals a crushing blow to the protagonist's fragile mental state, causing her to falter and ending the fight; what he said likely wouldn't have been a particularly strong argumentative statement in and of itself, because his logic would be impaired by his emotional state, but it would have a key tidbit in their that would catch the protagonist's attention and cause her to stop and have the statement ring inside her head for a moment, causing further mental breakdown and disabling her from arguing further. Having conquered the verbally abusive protagonist, and still angry enough not to care exactly what he said to do it, he slams his door shut. But now I'm rewriting a part of the story just because I don't agree with how it happened.
There were several other places where I initially thought, "Well that seems to be a bit of a contrived way to go about it..." like figuring out how to move around, because I already knew that the skeletal structure of humans is still closely related to that of quadrupeds, but then I read that the protagonist comes to that conclusion on his own. On a side note, because we humans share common initially quadrupedal ancestors with other land-dwelling mammals, the subconscious programming that allows for quadrupedal locomotion is more than likely still in our own brains, and is likely what babies call upon when they first learn how to crawl on their own. But after a short while it becomes completely natural for him to walk like that, in much the same way that newborn equines, ungulates, etc. are very shaky taking their own first steps on their relatively long and skinny legs at first, but then learn to move around effectively within a relatively short span of time. I mention all of this because we humans still have such "legacy code" that our bodies no longer require to function; in addition to this leading to some people inexplicably having a moment where they experience the sensation of having a phantom tail, some of this code is responsible for getting the hiccups; these involuntary respiratory spasms have been linked to our distant aquatic ancestors, as it's believed to be the result of attempting to breathe through gills, which we of course no longer have. With all of this said, I'll refrain from speculating on how you'll approach future difficulties with adapting to the protagonist's new form, as you seem to end up resolving most of my qualms not too long after they initially arise.
Do I get to be part of the super-duper-long post club now?
Ah! A very long post of impressive and contemplative magnitude that overshadows yet invigorates and pleases my vocabular-challenged and intellect-limited mind!
First and foremost, I admit the strife with the neighbor wasn't well excecuted.
I had planned the main character to initially fear the interaction, then following her fear's dissipation, conjure the a plausible suspicion she's deluded herself to regard herself as a pony due to a form of psychosis. The unbearably humiliating and stressful prospect in turn would've greatly impacted her rationality and caused her to misconstrue the man's demeanor to the point she believed him to be purposefully malicious. She'd verbally lash out on him, and due to reasons not explored to to her and the audience, he'd not dare to respond with equal or greater force, though eventually he'd have enough and she'd receive her comeuppance through which she learns of her form being that of a filly is true.
As is evident, and I say again, that section wasn't very sound in the end. While rewriting it is most likely out of the question, I can think of a ideas for why the neighbor behaved as he did and and construct from those thoughts his motives. It's very true that we can't see into his mind, but it would be a gross injustice and disappointment if this story progressed all the way to its end and never explained the actions of the neighbor. I know his conduct seems contrived, especially the later section where he seemingly loses his temper, then feigns a heart attack and restrains the protagonist so he can glare her into submission, but hopefully I can explain all that and more by the time the protagonist again meets the neighbor.
At any rate, the deceit of a heart attack may indeed look sudden, but as you said, we don't see into his mind and thus can't really know how he came up with that on a such short notice. Also, take into account that after the protagonist had vented her frustration and fury on him, there was a moment of inaction between both. Who's to say he did not use that time to scheme his vengeance? Furthermore once he had the main character pinned to the wall, maybe he realized what he was about to do to her and hence restrained his nonviolent desires from mainfesting? It seemed very likely she was about to be wallopped after all, but as can be ascertained, that didn't come true. If he had pushed aside his anger, perhaps he would've backed down and tried to resolve the crisis through mutual diplomacy instead of (mostly) passive-aggressive demeanor. Just like in the protagonist's situation, there's the factor of maintaining face which can hamper one's logic. Following the surmised indignation of an erratically behaving petite unicorn mare practically shouting him to petrification, I doubt he'd be eager to lose the ground he gained when the tables had turned in his favor, even if it meant parting on neutral to friendly terms. It's obviously very difficult to apologize and settle one's differences when the mind is soaked in contempt, and I'm not solely referring to the neighbor here.
Hopefully that long and apparently well-thought explanation, while not perfectly exhaustive, answers some questions pertaining to the neighbor's conduct. However, I reiterate: I fully intend to solve the conflict that was left hanging between the two characters in due time.
Now, onto other matters...
176805
That could be very well be true; however, the protagonist ostensibly is unaware of said detail.
176654
A dude's mind in a female's body. Well... filly's body to be precise. I won't say much, but I dare to divulge it won't become a self-insert, if you know what I mean.
Anyhow, speaking of self-inserts... TTEoAP . . . I feel disinclined to talk about it.
It's been a good while since I read it and details of it are becoming obscure, not to mention that I don't regard the story's character too highly. Therefore, my opinion of it is prone to be less than favorable, but I suppose I should be respectful and entitle a reply on the topic in spite of my admitted shortcomings which I diligently shall try to combat.
I've said I was displeased in Firewall's attitude and skills, and I still do. I tried to tolerate both and see the story past the character, yet I still am disappointed in myself for giving up, as if it was my fault for not liking the character. Well, that's very well true . Nevertheless, I don't feel like blaming the author. He can definitely write well and conceive good storyline, even if he was drunk when he did; that speaks volumes on how much I have to improve to be as good of an author as he is . At any rate, as is the case with most popular fan fics, he must be doing something right to gain a such following, and I duly respect him for that. Although I'm not a fan of the character, I envy the verbal fluency and wit he professes, which in comparison makes me regard FPV's protagonist to be of limited eloquency and intellect respectively. Well, maybe not intellectually lacking, that's just too harsh, but she certainly doesn't have the high-grade cerebral gears Firewall has that allow him to calculate his situations with sufficient comprehension and crack a joke at it too. He's pretty much the basic, easy-going guy with a serious and fairly smart mind coated in a quick sense of good humor. Perhaps FPV's protagonist is smart in a different way though? She's definitely curious and devotes much effort to investigate matters that arouse her interest. That'd lend her to be an explorer in an almost literal meaning, contributing to a surmising of her being a book smart character as opposed to the streetwise Firewall. In essence, she'd be prone to educate herself about whatever subject that fascinates her before tackling it, whereas Firewall apparently utilizes his common sense to understand the situation. The spell he learned to ingest the knowledge of books (or were it limited to maps) irks me though, as it was quite an overpowered skill. I shouldn't let negative opinions prevail over my impartial side, so I better move on. Oh and cell phones can't contain the entire Internet! That's a severe violation of willing suspension of disbelief due to the very fact that cell phone memory storage units can't possibly store circa 500 exabytes of inf- What? You mean it connected to the Internet? From Equestria? Without a signal? Oh... that makes perfect sense! Huh, what now? Okay okay, I'm moving on! *grumbles*
The comparison of the story and characters may be unfair; however, there are a few parallells and interesting contrasts in their execution that I wish to mention. Both characters have become ponies without explanation. Firewall gives it little thought as it's, I quote, “too mentally taxing” (which I think is a lame cop out) to think of the why and how, as he has been so conventiently dropped into Ponyville so he can ignore his predicament in favor of meeting his idols, plus he pulls out a smoke from nowhere to further embolden his bliss. FPV's MC is, on the other hand (hoof?) very bothered by the inexplicable transformation and quite quickly bombards his mind to deduce an explanation for it, and he seemingly finds himself in his own bed, and most definitely didn't retrieve a packet of nicotine sticks stored in herself. I think it goes without much saying that her stress far exceeds Firewall's, which makes her susceptible to make very erroneus decisions and false assessments. While she had a suspicion, it was not only until she vocalized her thoughts when she realized she was a filly. I didn't overtly relate it into the narration, but that suspicion stemmed from the arguable deduction of subconsciously noting she had no prominent genitalia in addition of her coloring being quite unmasculine. Call it a very convincing form of denial, if you will. I remind you, first person narration and unreliable narration is firmly welded together. It just happens to be that – as an attentive audience would expect be the default – not always is an unreliable narrator being such with deliberate intention.
At any rate, I seem to recall that Firewall was somewhat distraught when his mane was turned pink. I do have to wonder how'd he'd handle him becoming a filly though, which is what has happened to FPV's MC. Would he shrug it off as well? Would he be so bold and confident that he'd embrace and... well, I may grossly misintrepret his character if I were to speculate his probable reaction of suddenly being a fire-breathing mare instead of a stallion.
Obviously FPV's protagonist is enduring something more severe than just the shape and stress bestowed on her by her trasmogrification into a petite and soft-colored filly (or mare; take your pick).
How she adapts to her form... yes, she had trouble walking on her four legs initally, not to mention accept her new appearance. It's quite clear the protagonist harbors a great resentment... Scratch that. Harbors a fear of humiliation, and being turned into a filly (i.e a girl) is obviously a serious affront to him. Forgoing the topic of her pride for now, I return back to the issue at hand. The locomotion algorithms enabling her to perform it with efficiency, if I'm to theorize on your expressed point, apparently were preinstalled in her body, albeit looks like it came with some unexpected luggage of adopting habit of inserting pony colloqualisms into her speech and thoughts, and other unnerving details she'd desire not to dwell on. Regardless, she adapts fairly well with her filly body and the displeasing mannerisms because she believes there's an easy exit avaliable through inflicting injury – accidental or deliberate – on herself, though I won't deny the aspect of pre-existing muscle memory helping her to adjust to her body; it's an observant and profound point you made.
Alas, I have now digressed from the original point and am almost rambling about whatever that my mind spews, but my objective to present some thoughts on TTEoAP again has been met. While I can't say I'm willing to resume reading Firewall's story, I will gladly read your comment(s) pertaining to it and my views. It's vital that I understand the viewpoints of others, even if it's a direct contrast of my own and fil to change it. That doesn't mean it's a vain effort to present a differing opinion. Instead, it permits me to be civil about my own and not regard it as the absolute and unquestionable truth beyond any voice of dissent. I'm an aspiring amateur author after all (alliterative appeal! ); I can't dismiss fair and constructive criticism, even when and if it's not related to my work.
Well, hopefully you'll find this prolonged message insightful. If not, then at least thought-provoking. I may not be the most cohesive thinker and English isn't my primary language, so I admit that what I write and have written may be poorly articulated. Still, it's worth trying.
Oh and, yes, you are in the club of excessively lengthy posts. Enjoy your... um... the, er . . . delight it grants you?
I'll be the first to admit that I've always been someone who looks upon fanfiction negatively. Rather, I didn't hate that it exists, I just never had any interest in it and never consumed it. However throughout the past year and a few months, people have linked me various FIM fanfics and demanded I read them. Originally hesitant, I eventually consumed them. Some I thought were kind of cute, or fitting, some not. But I always maintained my overall dislike for them.
Now the time has come that I was linked this one. My prospects weren't very high for the subject matter, but I concede defeat to you, author. This was one of the most interesting fanfics I've read to date, and save for a few instances of disbelief (passive-neighbor-gone-batshit-insane-in-10-seconds-flat,) I quite enjoyed reading it. You have changed my view a bit on fanfiction. Dare I say I look forward to your next installment. :)
178571
Thank you kindly. It warms my heart that my humble story has given a taste of delightully refreshing water to the brightly colored and detemined flower wishing to eagerly bloom in the infertile patch it's been planted in. That flower is the progenitor of a beatiful and serene meadow which shall replace the drab and brown landscape. So don't ever let that flower wither my friend. It needs you as much as you need it.
That was quite poetic of me, even if I do say so myself.
Do you know when you will upload the next part? I have patiently been waiting and would like to know when.
186463
That depends on how quickly me and my trusted pre-reader can refine the upcoming chapter.
176654 We're agreed. Though by the tone of this story, I doubt we'll dive into clop, if at all.
But if we do, it's gonna be slow pace. You simply cannot dive into clopping, especially if said action will erase all of your own past
identity. Sure, anyone would be curious, but at the cost of losing one's self, anybody would hesitate.
I look forward to the inevitable torture that our little hero will have to go through.
201780
This story is certainly among one of the most unique I have come across. Perhaps one of THE best in terms of quality, which baffles me to no end as to why this didn't earn first page. One has to wonder weather romance will be involved for the poor mare in there, meeting some male ponified stallion that was formerly female... That will be uncountable an awkward scene to write, and put our hero through hell as we know it.
Aww, the story is so modest it doesn't want to be featured on the first page. /Pinkie voice.
No, seriously, why hasn't FPV ever been up in the FIMfiction banner as a featured story?
At any rate, I dare not to spoil anything related to upcoming chapters. Your guess of a female-turned-stallion making an appearance is pure speculation that I won't confirm nor deny.
Although... it would be interesting to read a fic where a female brony (pegasister) has become a stallion . . . Hah! Who am I kidding? Those types of stories can't exist! They must be even scarcer than HiE fics with a female brony/pegasister protagonist, of which I have seen one!
Because, you know, MLP: FiM has no female fans...
Well, you certainly project her in the likeness of Pinke Pie. Hell, one would think that Pinke Pie broke the fifth wall,
infiltrated her head and turned her into what she is now. At the moment, I can see your OC slowly but surely turning Firewall into Cupcakes.
Oh, seemingly by the MC's ingestion of an innocuous meal bestowed her with inhibitionless bliss at the end of chapter four resulting in amnesia and a headache. It's not indicative of her being a puppet (or becoming an imperfect copy) of Pinkie Pie.
Speaking of which, may I ask what do you mean by "turning Firewall into Cupcakes"? It makes me think of the pink party pony snatching Firewall from Through The Eyes of Another Pony and literally turning him into cupcakes à la the infamous Cupcakes story.
Lastly that second comic's kinda disturbing. Well, more than kinda disturbing. Anyhow, I can see the reasons for why it's been posted here, but don't assure yourself it's an abridged adaptation of FPV.
201999
While I'm quite tight-lipped about future plot developments, I believe I won't spoil much by divulging that I have no intentions to navigate this story into to Clopfic Cove.
Ok. This gets the full 5 stars from me.
Why? Because it takes an old concept and executes it so well that it becomes unique again. Despite being, or at least having started as a simple self-insert, the quality manages to maintain such an overwhelming level that I can't help but be very intrigued. There's very descriptive language, a lot of thought in a slow, pondering narrative, interesting introspection and a believable character.
The fact that we get the occasional drawing (which are well done and show a cute face) is the icing on the cake. You, sir, have talent that makes me forget the horrid Mary Sues that show up here on a daily basis.
Well done!
177740 I'm very much obliged by the effort you put into constructing a fair and balanced argument to express your opinion. You claim you have a long way to go to achieve the writing prowess of CardsLafter (the author of TTEoAP), yet I don't really see that here. As you mentioned, the plot hole involving the cell phone is one such example of his being drunk impairing his ability to write something that makes sense. In any case, I do agree with the way you compare and contrast the MC here with Firewall, and I would agree that Firewall seems just a bit too on top of things for his situation; as I mentioned, it takes a bit more willful suspension of disbelief to enjoy that story than is necessary with FPV. Some people would use that to imply that FPV is the better story by default, but I disagree; it's more an indication of the difference in writing style, genre, and author intent between the two stories. Don't sell yourself short. You keep claiming that English is not your native language, and yet both the writing in the story and the writing in your comments/responses indicates a mastery of written English that exceeds the capabilities of many (if not most) native speakers. I can't even fathom the amount of effort you must put in to constructing everything you write here if you feel that you are hindered by not being a native English speaker.
Also, don't blame yourself for not liking Firewall. He's not exactly the most likable protagonist in the world, and he is a bit of a Gary Stu. Also, don't blame yourself for letting your dislike of Firewall stop you from continuing reading the story. Many have given up reading the whole thing earlier on for lesser reasons.
The only two things I would refute are:
1. I feel that the distinction of what type of display the microwave has is a minor enough detail that it would be better to be accurate for the sake of clarity, rather than to keep it inaccurate to preserve the unreliability of the narrator. Or the type of display could be left out entirely for the reader to fill in the blank, just having the glowing green characters on the microwave's display. Most people wouldn't worry too much over what type of technology is used as long as it does what it's supposed to and is easy to read from a distance.
2. If Firewall were turned into a mare I think he would be rather distraught; he's not always as calm, cool, and collected as he seems sometimes. As something of a SPOILER, he does at one point encounter a situation where he distresses over his physical appearance being altered to a more androgynous form, but in that situation, it's the least of his problems./SPOILER
200811
I must agree the pictures are quite a unique addition to the story. Usually you only see those things in author notes or some other bizarre place. But instead of taking you out of the story it adds to the fic in setting up the scenes. Although I've got to admit if I woke up a pony somehow I'd be way more concerned about the state of the universe. I mean wouldn't my existence somehow be a violation of oh I don't know... every scientific law imaginable?
Still great read so far. Although Ch. 4 was a little confusing to read, but then again it ended with what I assumed was a pineapple overdose.
177200
You're rewriting part of this story?
177740
Well your character definitely comes off as more learned, or at least she has a more diverse and unusual vocabulary.
I enjoyed TtEoAP, but I never thought to take it seriously, despite what may happen in the story.
200470
Who says you can't read in dreams?
201780
Those second and third comics are disturbing . . .
202321
I know a few pegasisters. Two of them are fairly good at LoL/TF2. :P
176654 We're agreed. Though by the tone of this story, I doubt we'll dive into clop, if at all.
But if we do, it's gonna be slow pace. You simply cannot dive into clopping, especially if said action will erase all of your own past
identity. Sure, anyone would be curious, but at the cost of losing one's self, anybody would hesitate.
I look forward to the inevitable torture that our little hero will have to go through.
202321>>202321
Reply: I would be careful if I were you dude. Just letting you know there ARE pegasisters on this site, and if they catch your message...
Let's just say they'll probably personally find your home address, then proceed to turn you into something worse than Cupcakes.
I would write the pegasister turned male stallion, buuut... Yeah, as I have said before, my writing skills are shoddy at best... Abysmal at worst.
Sure would make a good clop fic though, I would bet my bits on it.
Oi, I am just blowing out your "dislike" of Firewall. For some reason, I can see your OC in the position to murder Firewall with an axe, yelling "CALL ME ALLY BABA, OPEN SESAME!" Managing to give even Pinkamina the creeps. Meh, but then again, you probably have just as weird fantasies like I do, probably more so.
Oh, and the comics were to maintain emphasize. Nothing like a good little old visual imagery to pump the neurons in the brain's imagination!
encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ5LiOCE-k2LDxknTBp8GNnAQ_gB-rjPGaAqkmundOjrwmkIe7w
Like good ole Smugleaf here for example.
Ah, a new day and lots of comments to respond to. Nice, very nice.
203088
Thank you for the positive feedback!
Yes, I admit that the character started as a self-insert, but I quickly realized self-inserts are usually uninteresting because they have a tendency to turn into a Gary-Stu; always right, super-powered, immune to humiliation, and completely and absolutely intolerable for the audience, not to mention a long list of other traits that turn the protagonist into a highly corrosive snowflake only the author is resilient to. So, starting with an extremely drastic change, FPV's protagonist was no longer eligible to be nominated with the unanimously resented title of Gary-Stu, and hopefully not for its counterpart either.
That said, I dare to claim that FPV has changed from a simple short story written in the span of ten hours to an unprecedented piece of work that has no direct equal here on FIMfiction. It's now a philosophical and serious look at the psychological effects of a sudden transformation into a pony. Call it a grimdark-avoidant deconstruction of the "Cool! I'm a pony!"-trope that's usually pertinent to and prevalent in (though not exclusive to) HiE stories.
203375
It may be fair to say that my opinion of my English being sufficient but nevertheless lacking in some aspects encourages me to do my utmost to achieve excellence, whereas those who are confident and content with their skills may conform to it and thus never try to improve themselves. It's rather ironic, now that I think of it; my perceived inadequacy instigating me to constantly match the level of native speakers of English is actually pushing me above that standard. I must never let that go into my head though, lest I wish to become arrogant and smug. Nevertheless, writing proficient English is a seemingly endless battle I engage in with determination and zeal. I wish to provide a high quality story, and my comments are to adhere to that same directive, even when sometimes it feels like I'm stubbornly trying to achieve the impossible.
At any rate . . .
1. I feel that the distinction of what type of display the microwave has is a minor enough detail that it would be better to be accurate for the sake of clarity, rather than to keep it inaccurate to preserve the unreliability of the narrator. Or the type of display could be left out entirely for the reader to fill in the blank, just having the glowing green characters on the microwave's display. Most people wouldn't worry too much over what type of technology is used as long as it does what it's supposed to and is easy to read from a distance.
I belive you're right; I can safely delete the erroneous acronym without risking the integrity of the story and narration.
204817
Oh, yes, chapter four can be a bit... perplexing. However, answers will come. Eventually.
205056
You have paper pony to thank for the unquestionably beautiful art (except chapter two's art; that comparatively poor illustration was created by me), whom has declared to enjoy this story greatly and willingly employed his considerable talents for my and the audience's pleasure, and most likely his own as well. I believe it's more than right that I offer a link to his art gallery in return, though I feel that gesture is simply too little to repay his generosity with.
205244
Nice to see you here too
Well your character definitely comes off as more learned, or at least she has a more diverse and unusual vocabulary.
And it's nice for you to say that. FPV would be a lot less entertaining fi it was written without your immeasurable help.
Those second and third comics are disturbing . . .
Especially the second cartoon. Brrr... However, that person is a non-fan, so maybe it's karma pranking him? Rarity looks very adorable in the second to last panel, regardless.
205383
Reply: I would be careful if I were you dude. Just letting you know there ARE pegasisters on this site, and if they catch your message...
Let's just say they'll probably personally find your home address, then proceed to turn you into something worse than Cupcakes.
My comment was to be taken as a jest; I emphasized that with the emoticon (ponyticon?) of AJ's dull-looking stare. I'm fairly sure there are several female authors and fans here on FIMfiction, and let me make this clear: I have absolutely nothing against pegasisters. Honestly, I believe a pegasister in Equestria could offer a different perspective from the predominantly male protagonist, male author HiE stories, which usually are about either or both the protagonist becoming quickly and inevitably intimate with one of the mane cast and vanquishing some evil threat that just so conveniently can't be defeated ny the mane six. I'm already getting a headache just by cogitating how trite those HiE stories are. Maybe they should be called IIMiE (Insufferably Impeccable Man in Equestria) instead?
Fortunately, there are a few good exceptions that so delightfully break the rule, either by playing it straight with exceptional quality, or apllying a heavy dose of irony to turn it into a satire of said Gary-Stu fics, or by altering one central aspect to radically change how the story pans out. Trip Of A Lifetime is one such story. Instead of the protagonist welcoming, or at least accepting, his new environment, he's abhorring it. He is also a grade A jerk who views friendship and love as forgeries and lies, and shows nothing but contempt for the mane six, thinking he himself is always right and everything and everyone is inferior to him. Naturally, that attitude leads to a lot of humiliation and pain coming his way, which he doesn't learn anything out of due to his hardened and arrogant ego plus his hate for the ponies and Equestria rebuking most attempts to show kindness or regret. Well, until... Nah, I wont spoil anything. Instead, I sincerely endorse TOAL, as it's one of the best HiE stories I've read to date.
Anyway, this was yet another long post brough to you by yours truly. Feel free to brandish your pickaxes, or any other tool of your preference, and pick it apart.
205711
Hey! I do share your sentiments on the English language, man. It engaged my rant mode and I didn't want to spam the comment section with unrelated text so I ended writing a blog post about that. Check it out if you're interested
Gah...
Damn the internet for not transferring sarcasm correctly.
And yes, I have read the first few chapters of the story.
Indeed, what a basterd. Would you mind providing a few of those links about those good
stories that you were talking about? You got me curious.
205841
I agree with your blog rant . It was very profound and eloquent, too. My battle with the English language is eternal, and I guess it's with you as well. However, don't let that put a stop to you. If you have a good imagination, you should definitely try to write it down, even if you have doubts in your talents. I mean, I did, and look what it has gotten me into. FPV has developed from a basic, one-chapter introspective of a person's first minutes as a sudden pony, to a profound exploration of how the dramatic change in physique affects the protagonist.
Anyhow, writing is, to put it simply, a continual learning experience. Compare the first chapter of FPV with the latest and you'll discern the noticeable (I hope) improvement in my linguistic and narrative skills. It can be quite enjoyable, yet at times frustrating (sometimes both at the same time) to produce an entertaining fan fic. I guess I can count myself very lucky that FPV captivates the interest of others than my own
209736
Yes, these I count as good exceptions to the typical HiE formula.
Article 2
A rather dark and sad take on a non-brony human stranded on Equestria.
My Little Human: The Strange Case of Lyle Hartman
A human wakes up as a pre-existing background character in Equestria. It's a first person story, too.
Trip Of a Lifetime
The protagonist is a jerk and dislikes the mane six and Equestria. Hilarity ensues.
Memory Pending
First person narration is always a plus, and the protagonist's previous form arguably being a non-human wizard (not to mention his comically misconstrued inital assessments of Equestria and its inhabitants) sets it apart from the generic HiE fics.
220361
I occasinally insert some small bits of humor into the story. Well, the protagonist does.
Maybe it has something to do with the past tense, or my occasinal inbility to describe a feeling instead of writing a feeling. Now did that make sense? I'm constantly trying to improve though. Any advice is good advice, especially examples of don'ts and dos
220460
Yes, yes. Examples of do's and don't's. That might be a while coming. I would need to go back through the story and actually try to analyse what it is that makes me feel the way I do. That can be rather difficult for me, as a non-writer. I don't know. I might try to be helpful, though, someday.
Speaking of which, how do you format the method of response in which it shows the user name of the writer of the post you are responding to, so that upon scrolling over it, the text of the post itself shows up in a little pop-up box? Hmm. Odd. Does it just format itself?
205056
I must agree the pictures are quite a unique addition to the story. Usually you only see those things in author notes or some other bizarre place. But instead of taking you out of the story it adds to the fic in setting up the scenes. Although I've got to admit if I woke up a pony somehow I'd be way more concerned about the state of the universe. I mean wouldn't my existence somehow be a violation of oh I don't know... every scientific law imaginable?
I must agree with you about the pictures. They really do add some sort of undefinable it to the stories, helping to ground them -- the settings and ideas -- more firmly once again.
220786
To my understanding Glen chose to remain a female because she had fallen in love, which was not solely on her own accord as she was in heat when her feelings were incited. She struggled to fight her desires of course, and even changed to a stallion later on and ran away to start a new life. However, Glen came to regret that decision and through many plot twists, reunited with the significant somepony to live happily ever after. As a mare.
FPV's protagonist, (who I refer to as RS from hereon), hasn't been exposed to the ponification serum present in the TCB stories. The serum intriniscally changes the person's psyche to accept and adapt to the new form, plus enact other changes in the species-altered person as well. Depending on the author and story, it ranges from small things, such as romantic (and sexual) attraction to ponies, to a dramatic erasure of personality with a barely analogous pony identity and behavior.
Anyhow, RS hasn't been affected with any mind-altering foreign substance as far as we know. The premise of his condition is very basic: he has awoken as a filly. From that point forward, things begin to develop. While it hasn't yet been stated in the story but can be surmised, having the body of a filly means he has the brain of a filly too. Undeniably that and the body's hormones are playing a part in his conduct despite him still regarding himself as a male. However, it's debatable that the ponyisms (anypony, everypony, what the hay etc.) is not a natural trait, but something learned from exposure to Equestrian culture. Moreover we have the small glimpses of pony memories which confuse and scare RS. What those factors imply is a topic of speculation, though I won't confirm or deny anything. At any rate, his biologically female brain certainly affects him in ways he doesn't always catch on to, and when he does, he either combats or denies them. As said, he considers himself a male and hence adheres to what he thinks are male standards. Conversely he resents feminine behavior, albeit in the fourth he temporarily loses his inhibitions and in the fifth chapter he surmises his form is the manifestation of his femininity. By no means does him being a brony imply he is effeminate. We actually don't know too much about RS at this point; however, occasional bits and pieces of his past, social behavior and hobbies are relayed through the narration.
Better that than a preamble detailing his life and interests up to his strange awakening.
Speaking of which, so far RS has presumably experienced only a few hours in his new body, and throughout all that he has mainly believed to be lucid dreaming. Due to the latter, he is fairly accepting of being a filly and obviously hasn't contemplated the possibility life as such. The closest was the (realistic) fear of becoming a living toy for morally depraved scientists.
Nonetheless, his self-image being that of male in a filly's body does portray him as a transsexual, though I suspect this would be the likely for anyone who would suddenly find themself turned into the opposite sex, not accounting true cases of transpeople of course; they would undoubtly feel blessed and rejoice in euphoria.
Anyway, without question he would be absolutely shocked to realize his body truly has been transformed. A taste of that occurred at the start of chapter five. Well . . . it was more like a narrowly averted faculty flummoxing full-blown panic, which I believe is a fairly strong indication of how much he fears to find out he is a real, tangible, breathing, living, ovaries-owning filly instead of the body being a vivid illusion created by his sleeping mind. It can also be argued he's in extreme denial and has labeled his reality as a convincing fantasy, hence sparing himself from the immeasurable horror of knowing with finality his body has inexplicably become that of a filly.
Alas, I can't reveal where I take this story to and what RS will encounter in the process, but I do have the plot mapped out quite far ahead. Just through that small admission is it possible to draw out some theories on what he has to face.
On the proposal of do's and don't's, I reiterate: any advice is good advice.
177740
Hello! :3 Your insights intrigue me. And yes, I agree with you on many points! Especially the cellphone/internet. PROOF THAT I WAS DRUNK, I TELL YOU!
Anyway, yes, I will agree that Firewall is too irritating, but that's just part of FP-POV. No matter what, you're going to find people that hate the POV because it differs too much from theirs. It isn't your fault for hating Firewall, mate, you just don't see things the way he does. Just keep in mind, the thing started off on a drunken dare to take all the terrible cliches and stuff them into a single fic. So uh... I did it! XD
I'm tabbing your fic, I'm going to read it (WAY too late to start reading now) soon and would love to give you an equally honest critique before long. :D Don't worry, I'm not a jerk, I won't trash you just because you didn't like my fic. n.n Anyway, ya'll take care and I hope you can stomach the rewrite of TTEOAP when I finally get it done! :D
254100
Aww, you're too forrgiving. No, wait! Don't take that as an excuse to hammer me into a flat disk!
I make a poor manhole lid, what with being flesh and bones instead of cast iron
Anyway, one story starts out when drunk, another when insomniac in bed. Your story was an initial cliche-fest, and mine is a non-dark deconstruction of the "Being a pony is super awesome!"-trope. Both characters are self-inserts that nevertheless become or became OC ponies. To FPV'sprotagonist's chagrin, I took that change to a new (or different) level I wonder what more similarities there are other than the FP-POV?
At any rate, your upcoming critique, good or bad, I shall value, because it can educate me to become a better author.
One thing I wish to make clear though: I'm not a fan of Firewall, but I respect you as an author. You know how to write good dialog, have a good grasp on idioms and possess an extensive vocabulary you know how to utilize well. I struggle with all three. Still, I havent seen any fics here with the premise mine has, so I keep on writing until I finish FPV. Abandoning this fic is very unlikely. Impossible, I proclaim.
Keep going! 5 stars and a watchful eye from me. Cannot wait to see the next several chapters.
254679
Thanks !
I hope to publish a new chapter before March, but . . . it may take a bit longer .
205711
I never left. :P
254722
Does that mean this is getting an update soon? I am so excited.
281349
Currently I'm optimistic and I estimate it to be a week - two at tops - until the next chapter is published.
i just realized poison joke does something to ponies (and maybe people) that they wouldn't want. our friend here doesn't want to be a stuck as a filly for the rest of his life so maybe he ran into some poison joke without knowing the day before all of this happened you can say no but ill always say yes
222990 you said he has a filly brain too? dude that would kinda funny to have him talking to his filly brain in a sort
289463
I'm not entirely sure what you mean. The protagonist doesn't have a separate filly brain stored in a jar she talks to, but as she is, well, a filly and thus has the brain of a filly. Or do you mean she'll develop a split personality?
291197
But " takatakatakataka screetch clang+some other noise" greatest door opening ever.
"Kakawshunk-kakawshunk-kakawshunk... ssshh..."
That's the door rolling like a big cog, followed by its hydraulic systems releasing pressure.
I think i can track this story among other stories. Somehow i get inception reference from this, and walking is pretty damn hard. If anyone has played QWOP they should know.
Mutta jatka samaan malliin on ihan kiva tarina.
291497
I haven't seen Inception, so any reference to it is purely coincidental. Neither do I know what QWOP is.
Oli miten oli, toivottavasti tulee julkaistua uusi kappale parin viikon sisällä.
291521
googletat vaan QWOP ja opettelet siitä.